On a sunny morning in the peaceful countryside, Farmer CUTIS had something special planned. Known for his love of animals and his surprising talents, today he was about to unveil another side of himself—his cooking skills. But what made this moment unforgettable was not just the food—it was the reaction of his little friend, Baby Monkey, who had no idea what to expect.
CUTIS was always full of surprises. One day he was planting trees with surgical precision, the next he was building monkey hammocks from recycled clothes. But cooking? That was new even for him! He had spent the night watching cooking tutorials on his phone, and by sunrise, he was ready to show off his skills. His plan was to make a delicious vegetable soup with wild herbs and freshly harvested produce from his farm.
As CUTIS began setting up his small outdoor kitchen near the mango grove, Baby Monkey sat on a bamboo bench, curiously observing. The little monkey tilted his head, scratching his fuzzy chin, wondering what all the fuss was about. Pots, pans, ladles, cutting boards—it looked more like a science experiment than cooking.
“Today,” CUTIS announced dramatically, “we cook like kings!”
At first, Baby Monkey was excited. He clapped his little hands and chirped in joy. But the excitement didn’t last long
CUTIS began by lighting the firewood stove. The sudden whoosh of flames sent Baby Monkey leaping three feet into the air. He scrambled onto a tree branch, eyes wide, tail wrapped tightly around a twig. CUTIS laughed heartily.
“Don’t worry, little chef! It’s just fire. It helps make the soup!”
Baby Monkey wasn’t so sure. He peered down cautiously, sniffing the air, unsure if this “cooking” thing was really safe.
As CUTIS started chopping vegetables with flair—onions, carrots, sweet potatoes—he put on a show worthy of a cooking channel. He tossed slices into the air, caught them behind his back, and even tried spinning a tomato like a basketball. Baby Monkey’s eyes darted with every move.
The moment CUTIS added onions to the pot, the real drama began. The sizzling sound echoed like fireworks. Baby Monkey shrieked and bolted from the tree, grabbing CUTIS’s shirt and trying to pull him away from the “danger zone.”
“Stay back! The pot is angry!” Baby Monkey seemed to say through his panicked chirps and wild gestures.
CUTIS couldn’t stop laughing. “It’s okay! That sound means it’s working!”
The next phase was boiling. As steam rose, Baby Monkey grew even more distressed. He crept closer to the pot, cautiously sniffed the air, and instantly recoiled, convinced that the bubbling concoction was alive. He grabbed a large banana leaf and tried to fan the pot, as if trying to cool it down before it exploded.
To keep him calm, CUTIS handed Baby Monkey a carrot. But the monkey refused to eat, instead trying to stuff the carrot into the boiling soup as if to “fix” it.
The funniest moment came when CUTIS decided to stir the soup using a long wooden spoon. He handed Baby Monkey a second spoon, inviting him to help. Baby Monkey cautiously took the spoon, then dipped it into the pot and instantly dropped it as the heat surprised him. He looked up at CUTIS as if saying, “Are you insane?! It’s boiling!”
CUTIS gently picked him up, sat him on a nearby rock, and gave him a front-row seat at a safe distance. “Just watch, little buddy. This is where the magic happens.”
As the soup simmered, CUTIS added a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper, and some secret herbs. The aroma slowly drifted through the air—earthy, savory, and warm. Baby Monkey’s nose twitched. He blinked once, sniffed twice, and then slowly leaned forward, intrigued.
“See? Not so scary now, huh?”
Baby Monkey slowly crawled forward again, this time not in fear, but in curiosity. He peeked into the pot and let out a soft chirp. The soup didn’t look evil anymore—it looked tasty.
CUTIS served the soup in a small bowl, placing it beside Baby Monkey. The little one hesitated, sniffed it again, then cautiously dipped a finger in and tasted it.
Boom—his face lit up! His eyes sparkled with delight. He smacked his lips and clapped his hands in approval.
“YES! You like it!” CUTIS cheered.
Then something unexpected happened—Baby Monkey decided to help. He ran into the garden, picked some wild mint leaves, and proudly dropped them beside CUTIS. The farmer looked down at the offering, smiled, and added a few leaves into the pot.
“You’re a natural, buddy. Chef’s assistant material!”
From that point on, Baby Monkey was no longer afraid. He stayed by CUTIS’s side for the rest of the cooking, eagerly watching and mimicking every move. When CUTIS cut vegetables, Baby Monkey copied using a small piece of stick. When CUTIS stirred, he stirred air. When CUTIS tasted, he mimed chewing with great exaggeration.
Lunch that day was a true feast. They sat side by side on the porch, a bowl of soup for each. Baby Monkey had a napkin around his neck like a fancy diner guest. He slurped the soup noisily, dropping bits and making a happy mess.
CUTIS just grinned. “Best sous-chef ever.”
Word of CUTIS’s cooking show spread quickly around the farm. The goats came sniffing, the ducks waddled over to investigate, and even the cows peeked from their stalls. It became a daily mini-event. Each day, CUTIS tried a new recipe, and Baby Monkey played the role of assistant-cook-turned-food-critic, complete with dramatic reactions and comic expressions.
Their bond grew stronger—not just through play or care, but now through shared meals and laughter. Baby Monkey no longer panicked when the fire crackled or the soup sizzled. Instead, he danced beside the pot, proudly wearing a mini apron CUTIS made from a scrap of cloth.
It wasn’t just funny—it was heartwarming.
And so, the legend of CUTIS’s cooking adventures with Baby Monkey became part of local lore. Children would gather near the fence to watch. Adults chuckled at the monkey’s reactions. But for CUTIS and his little friend, it was simply about joy, friendship, and the delicious surprise that cooking together could bring.
The story of one farmer, one monkey, and one pot of soup became the perfect recipe for laughter—and love.
